


Day 297

by Josh_the_Bard



Series: A Year in Kirkwall [297]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josh_the_Bard/pseuds/Josh_the_Bard
Summary: Trigger Warning for attempted suicided
Series: A Year in Kirkwall [297]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589257
Kudos: 1





	Day 297

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning for attempted suicided

Alvin looked into the churning waters of the Kirkwall harbor. Five years, five fucking years he had sailed with Captain De Las Harras none of which meant shit now apparently. He had protected her ship from pirates and nosy authorities both. He had fought Qunari, Blood Mages, Carta, Guards from every coastal nation in Thedas. The Captain would never have survived so long without him any yet…

They had been attacked by a guard while moving some cargo a few days ago. One guard had taken out four skilled mercenaries moving faster than Alvin would have believed possible without magical assistance. Try as they might they had not been able to get around his shield or inside the reach of his sword. Alvin had lost both his hands in that fight, one at the wrist and one at the elbow. The others had managed to stop him from bleeding out but not even magical healing could regrow his lost limbs.

Alvin had been a warrior all his life. He didn’t have any other skills, and even if he did what could he do with no hands? Captain De Las Harras had turned him out with only what pay he was owed for the week. There were so many things he had not considered about his life going forwards, like having to trust the merchants who sold him his food not to rob him when they took his coin purse from his belt.

Alvin stared at the waters of Kirkwall’s harbor and considered plunging into water and letting it enveloped him. He had never really planned for his life after the job. He had enjoyed the fighting, had enjoyed the drinking gambling and sex when they put to port. He thought that would be his life until he got too old and slow and someone younger killed him. Instead he would just… wither away until he starved to death in the streets.

He should have stuck with his original life plan and fought that guard to the death. He would rectify that now. Alvin pitched forwards and felt the cold water. Everything went black and Alvin embraced the void.

He awoke, he didn’t know how much later, on the back surrounded by onlookers. A man was kneeling over him with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you alright?” the man asked.

Alvin tried to respond but instead choked and sputtered up all the water he had swallowed. The man decided to bring Alvin to the Chantry despite his protests.

“There are brothers and sisters there,” said the man, “who give charity to the needy. You don’t need to worry, they’ll look after you.”

Alvin didn’t want charity. He didn’t want to spend his life as some priestesses pet project. The poor man she fed and bathed to make her feel better about herself. But he couldn't resist the man dragging him through the streets.

“All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands, from the lowest slaves to the highest kings. Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker.”

Alvin looked to see the chanter standing by his board. He wondered idly how one became a chanter, all he had ever seen them do was stand by the chanter’s board and speaking random phrases from the chant of light. As he was dragged into the chantry proper his head was already filling with questions… and new plans.


End file.
